#the warrior who surpassed death itself

[maplescloudymistbutterflies]

CHANCE.

TW! mentions of death.

bittersweet! melancholic

t. muichiro x f. reader

graciously requested by @muuumuiiii ! thank you so much for requesting, you sweet lovely lad<3

who would have anticipated it? the mist hashira, of all individuals, displaying a concern that surpassed anyone else's for you—the spirit pillar; a warrior whose technique came at the steep cost of a gradual erosion of your life.

THE MOON; THE BRIGHTEST PEARL SUSPENDED IN OUR VELVET SKY THAT FLOODED THE INKY DARKNESS WITH ITS SILVER GLOW.

a radiant disc it was. casting its ethereal glow upon the shadows of the night, while also heralding the relentless onslaught of a few infamous entities—demons.

a symbol of hope, this pale sentinel embodied a goddess-like presence, standing as a timeless guardian, observing the earth with an unwavering gaze as warriors valiantly battled the monstrous creatures scattered throughout.

above, the luminous orb commanded the vast expanse of stars, illuminating them all. yet, even in this peaceful night, two particular slayers found themselves immersed in the serenity, although one seemed burdened by a more pressing concern, far beyond the tranquility itself.

in a world where such creatures roamed, the perfect harmony would remain elusive.

thus, what purpose did survival serve if death constantly loomed, a persistent visitor at one's very doorstep?

well, the purpose of life is to be happy. or at least, that's what this young man believed.

said boy possessed an acute understanding of this belief, as if it had become ingrained in the very fabric of his being—an awareness that, perhaps, bordered on the excessive.

the sheer ecstasy of savoring every moment of existence, embracing its essence in its entirety, was undeniably a remarkable achievement—a feat that deserved to be celebrated with fervor.

thus, he found himself utterly incapable of comprehending—indeed, he never had—how she could nonchalantly dismiss the imminent cessation of her own existence, as if it were a trifling matter. the weight of her disregard for her own life gnawed at him, like a persistent ache that defied understanding.

..then again, had he been any different?

"—and…now you’re spacing out, again.”

ah, the sound of that melodious voice; both longed for and dreaded, resonated within him and snapped him out of his reverie. even though he had incessantly poured out his thoughts to her since he awakened from his coma, with her faithfully by his side, deep in slumber—despite her own exhaustion—she had remained.

as your words echoed in his ears, he shifted his gaze to meet your own—and oh, those eyes.

he would give anything to forever witness his own reflection in the depths of your eyes.

in a mesmerizing dance, your gazes intertwined; an exquisite tapestry woven with delicate threads of connection.

he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnificence of your irises—their majesty akin to rare crystalline treasures, gleaming beneath the majestic canopy of the nocturnal sky.

as a gentle zephyr whispered sweet nothings, its delicate touch caressed their beings, a tender embrace from the invisible hands of nature. he watched, his eyelids descending to a half-closed state, surrendering to the enchanting symphony of the night.

the breeze, like a playful sprite, felt as if it alone, could carry away his worries and sorrows, dispersing them into the velvety darkness.

yet, amidst this reposeful tranquility, a question lingered in the depths of his soul, an enigma that remained elusive and enigmatic.

it was one of the few riddles that continued to elude his grasp, an enigmatic puzzle that defied comprehension, regardless of whether he had regained his former self or not.

why, he pondered ever so deeply, did your well-being hold such profound significance to him?

why did his heart ache with an inexplicable yearning to protect you, to ensure the radiance within you remained untouched by the shadows of the world? it was as if his very purpose revolved around safeguarding your light, shielding it from the encroaching darkness threatening to dim its brilliance.

no, he never intended to diminish your worth in any way.

on the contrary—he understood, with a profound certainty, that you’re fully capable of caring for yourself alone.

yet, despite his awareness, a veil of mystery draped over his consciousness—that of a delicate wisp of mist teasing the boundaries of his understanding. it remained tantalizingly close, yet perpetually out of his reach, an enigma that eluded his grasp.

similarly elusive was the faint, almost imperceptible yet weighty pang in his heart each time his gaze flickered to your bandages that dressed your wounds.

he struggled to fathom its origins, to decipher the emotions that coursed through him with every glance. was it concern, fear, or something different altogether?

of course, he chastised himself for overreacting. after all, you were healing, weren't you?

...right?

at least, that was the relentless mantra he repeated to himself, like a haunting melody, a lullaby of self-deception.

perhaps it was a lie he constructed, a defense mechanism to shield himself from the harsh reality. deep down, he knew all too well that you were pushing yourself to the brink, sacrificing fragments of your own well-being to save countless others from the clutches of death.

how he yearned to tell you—to implore you—to cease using the very essence that slowly, yet inexorably, eroded your own vitality. the desire to shield you from the self-inflicted harm, consumed him.

yet, who was he to stand in your way?

who was he to dictate how you should pursue your purpose—your solemn vow? who had the right to demand that you discard the only technique you knew, as if acquiring a new skill were a trivial matter?

perhaps, for you, it had maybe once been a tangible option—a plausible alternative.

however, it clashed with the very reason why you chose to persist in wielding the power of spirit breathing, despite its unfortunate and devastating toll on your own being.

it was a conundrum that weighed heavily upon his soul, yet another conflict that tugged at the frayed edges of his limited understanding.

then, abruptly—his consciousness snapped back to reality, like a fragile dream shattered by the gentle sweep of a waving hand.

in that instant, the symphony of your voice, a sweet and melodious tune, graced his senses once more, stirring his spirit from its slumber.

"hello? earth to tokito?"

your words danced in the air, adorned with a delicate blend of amusement and genuine concern—whilst he, silently observed your actions. his gaze lingering for a fleeting moment, as if capturing the essence of your graceful movements.

soon enough, his eyes blinked, like a dormant star awakening to illuminate the night sky, as he finally stirred from his reverie.

with a subtle tilt of his head, he emitted a soft hum—a melodic expression that intertwined intrigue and acknowledgment in response to your beckoning. the notes of his hum danced through the air, a secretive melody that conveyed both his curiosity and the recognition of your presence.

meanwhile, you watched him with an internal sigh of relief.

the young man, whom you had believed to be forever lost in the bewitching realm of his perpetual daydreams, had returned to the realm of the present. the transformation within him, from introspective to effervescent, had you spellbound, never failing to leave you even in but a speck of awe, of these rare moments of clarity that graced his being.

"seems like someone's finally awake."

a faint smile blossoming upon your lips, akin to the first delicate bloom of a spring flower. lowering your hand with graceful grace,

you adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position beside him on the edge of the engawa outside the butterfly manor—a perch where you and him had been leisurely spending time together, without a care in the world, rambling on about. relishing in the comfort in one another’s presence—like a normal pair of souls basking in the way of life.

"you’ve been staring at me for quite a while.”

pausing for a breath, you tilted your head—the radiance of your irises blooming with an enchanting glow, as if the secrets of the universe were hidden within their depths.

"what's wrong?"

in the midst of an enchanting moment, a subtle hint of wounded innocence played across your seductive countenance, evoking a mysterious allure.

"do i look that bad?"

your voice, though as mellow and gentle as always, carried an underlying touch of vulnerability.

in an instant, he reacted, tilting his head with a subtle mixture of surprise and denial.

"what? no."

aa he blinked, his words slipped out absent-mindedly, like a whisper from a dreamer's lips.

"far from it, actually."

he confessed, his sincerity palpable.

with a gaze that held a painter's eye for detail, he saw your flaws not as imperfections, but as intricate brush strokes that added depth to the masterpiece of your being. inexplicably, he adored you, to the point where it practically pained him.

and who could blame him? for you were way more than a mere beauty that could be captured in words. you were a tapestry of emotions, a symphony of sensations that defied description.

to him, you are everything.

your brows raised slightly, captivated by his ever-unpredictable nature. truly, like the wind, he embraced the freedom to wander in any direction he pleased.

reminiscent of an owl, you blinked a plenty amount of times, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of his flattery. it seeped into the recesses of your heart, stirring a delicate blend of bashfulness and gratitude.

"then..."

unintentionally mimicking his gestures, as if dancing in synchrony with his spirit, you then asked, avidly yearning to explore the depths of his thoughts.

"mind sharing what's got you so..distant?"

although it was not deemed uncommon for him, of all individuals, to maintain a silent disposition, you possessed a deeper understanding—having witnessed something greater, something more.

despite the mere span of a few days, you stood as a crucial observer to the sudden shift in his demeanor. having been privy to a bewildering yet endearingly interactive side of the boy since his awakening, it became slightly disconcerting to witness him potentially regress into his characteristic, distant, and dazed state.

the memory of those extraordinary moments lingered, and it was disheartening to question whether they were mere illusions or if they held the promise of something genuine.

as of now, the male in question pressed his lips together, creating a slender line as his gaze wandered away from yours, as though searching for a brief respite from reality.

seeing this, you reassured him. carefully observing these subtle occurrences with your keen irises.

"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

responding with a weary shake of his head and a sigh escaping his lips, his gaze flickered back to you, and as his eyes connected with yours once more, a subtle softness overcame them.

truly breathtaking were his eyes. they possessed a hue reminiscent of emerald, yet they gleamed like the replesdent glow of the moon above.

however, what truly captured your attention was the way his brows furrowed just as the corner of his lips downturned, for internally—a cascade of emotions crashed upon him all at once. moreover, a despairing layer seemed to coat his eyes, a poignant sorrow that caught you off guard.

"i don't like it."

he stated firmly, his words hanging in the air, leaving you perplexed.

your head tilted slightly further, eyes widening as you regarded him with curiosity and intrigue.

in response, he raised a hand to the area where his heart resided, his gaze lowering and narrowing towards the ground beneath you both.

"this feeling..."

his voice carried a weight of uncertainty, gaze delicately shifted back to meet yours—and in that moment, you could have sworn you saw his frown deepen as the hint of sorrow on his features became even more pronounced.

"and knowing you could..."

he trailed off, unable to bring himself to complete his sentence. yet, the unfinished words were enough for you to grasp the essence of his meaning.

your brows upturned, sensing the profound depth of emotions he struggled to express fully through words. you had a hunch that it might be something like this, but witnessing his reaction with such intensity was, without a doubt, enough to evoke a painful ache in anyone's heart.

the desire to comfort him welled up within you, an overwhelming longing to ease his burdens. yet, you couldn't help but question how you could possibly offer reassurance.

would it be by telling a blatant lie about something that was inevitable?

now, that would be nothing short of cruelty, no?

to suggest that you would overcome it would only exacerbate the pain. moreover, you were uncertain how to approach the situation without inadvertently triggering a devastating chain of events in the unavoidable future.

truth be told, if he were anyone else, you might have dismissed the matter with a casual remark, wouldn't you?

but with him, it was different.

you couldn't bring yourself to say so.

unable to find the right words in that moment, your gaze somberly shifted away from his, fixating on a distant point ahead. yet, in a sudden and unexpected instant, you were taken aback as you felt the weight of something new but vaguely familiar resting upon your shoulder—soft strands of supple hair gently brushing against you. along with it came a delicate warmth, enveloping you in an oddly soothing sensation.

"you don't have to say anything."

he quietly uttered, his honeyed voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and reassurance. he simply needed to release his thoughts into the open, to let them be heard, even if it was just a single sentence.

there had been no intention to pressurize or burden you, but rather a desire to be the one offering reassurance while subtly seeking comfort himself.

in a silent plea to convince himself that he wasn't caught in a dream, he gingerly leaned his head against your shoulder, and though was making sure not to add any more damage to your wounds, he did so without a hint of regret.

your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his actions. turning your attention back to him, you found solace in this unspoken gesture of support. that tender gesture conveyed a profound understanding, a connection that surpassed the boundaries of words. it was a silent reassurance; of ones comforting presence for the other, especially in the face of uncertainty.

a sentimental smile graced your features as you felt immense gratitude for his selfless deeds. even in this moment, he made sure you were as comfortable as possible, going above and beyond to provide solace. the warmth of his actions filled you with a deep sense of appreciation and reinforced the unmatched bond between you.

"..thank you,"

you whispered in a hushed breath, your voice carrying the weight of profound appreciation.

though the words seemed simple, they held within them an entire universe of gratitude—a universe that bloomed with vivid colors, dreamlike aspirations, and meaningful connections.

with a delicate grace, you lifted your hand and allowed your fingertips to dance upon the canvas of his raven tresses. each strand, like a silken thread, wove a tapestry of sensations beneath your touch.

the texture was soft and supple, akin to the gentle caress of a summer breeze. as your fingers glided through the ebony strands, you embarked on a journey of intricate care, smoothing out the knots that dared to disrupt the harmony.

in this intimate act, time seemed to suspend, creating a space where the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a transcendent moment. your touch, as mindful as the brushstrokes of an artist, traced a path of tenderness and care. each movement held intention, a pledge to protect and cherish him, ensuring no harm would befall his vulnerable spirit.

It was a silent symphony, where the language of trust and gratitude flowed effortlessly through the whispers of your fingertips.

as you continued this tender ministration, a vibrant tapestry of emotions unfurled within the depths of your heart. gratitude, like a delicate fragrance, mingled with a sense of wonder, weaving a spellbinding combination.

the tenderness you shared painted a tableau, akin to a cherished memory, where hues of warmth, understanding, and appreciation blended harmoniously.

pleased by your touch, a contented hum escaped your companion's lips, his eyes finding solace in the comfortable embrace of closed lids.

a smile, brimming with emotions, blossomed upon their visage, a testament to the profound impact of your presence.

his heart fluttered with a bittersweet ache, caught between the beauty of the present and the uncertainty of the future.

yey, even in the face of daunting odds, a glimmer of hope persisted within him. it discreetly clung to his being, refusing to be extinguished.

it was undeniably a childlike hope, both fragile and resilient; to yearn for the possibility of a miraculous turn of events.

still, muichiro wanted to embrace that chance, to patiently wait for the magic of a future with you.

[palms-upturned]

‘Are you enjoying this horror movie?’ Gaza resident asks world leaders

Nov 2nd, 16:15 GMT

Speaking to Al Jazeera from al-Shati refugee camp, Gaza resident Zak Hania says the Israeli army has dropped leaflets asking people to leave to the south within “three hours”.

But Hania says it is too dangerous to move from the north, as the roads are in “complete darkness” due to a lack of electricity.

“The [Israeli] tanks are in the middle of Gaza, they will shoot at us,” Hania said. While some residents have sought shelters in schools, others have opted to stay put, saying, “We are going to die in our homes,” he said.

Addressing world leaders, Hania asked: “Are you enjoying this … horror movie?”

“How many people need to die, [need] to be killed, for the people, for the world, for the world leaders to move to do something? We asked for a ceasefire. We are all civilians.”

[emphasis mine]

Netanyahu: Get out of north Gaza ‘because we will not stop’

Nov 2nd, 16:45 GMT

The Israeli prime minister, speaking to soldiers, again called on Palestinian civilians to leave the north of Gaza – an appeal humanitarian groups have repeatedly said is not realistic.

“Nothing will stop us,” Netanyahu said.

“I call to the uninvolved: Get out. Get out, move south,” he said. “Because we will not stop in our activity to eliminate the Hamas terrorists.

“We will move forward. We will advance and win, and we will do it with God’s help and with the help of our heroic warriors.”

[emphasis mine]

Israeli military says it has ‘encircled’ Gaza City

Nov 2nd, 18:32 GMT

Spokesman Daniel Hagari added, “The concept of a ceasefire is not on the table at all – the [Israeli military] is waging a war to dismantle Hamas.”

He called Gaza City – the largest city in the besieged enclave – “the centre of Hamas activity”.

Hagari said Israeli forces were “attacking Hamas outposts, headquarters, launch positions and launch infrastructure” and were engaged in “face-to-face fighting”.

The UN says about 300,000 internally displaced Palestinians are still in the north of Gaza.

[emphasis mine]

Israeli tanks ‘pushing towards’ Gaza City’s downtown area

Nov 2nd, 19:11 GMT

Safwat Kahlout, reporting from central Gaza

Israel is … pushing tanks towards the downtown, specifically towards the al-Shifa Hospital, which is located in the heart of Gaza City. This is from the north side of Gaza City.

From the southern part of Gaza City, the Israeli tanks [are] already stationed at Salahuldin main road, and they are advancing or pushing towards the coastal road known as Rashid Street.

We learned from witnesses who managed to flee or to escape from Gaza City towards the south, that thousands of people from the north of Gaza City itself now are heading towards al-Shifa Hospital, seeking shelter.

Heavy exchange of fire is taking place between fighting groups and the Israeli tanks that are trying to push forward inside the downtown.

[emphasis mine]

[bogos-bint3d]

Idk... I make posts about Undyne a lot . but you know? I've just been thinking about it. Thinking about all this real hard. Thinking about the woman who would do anything to protect others. The woman who is tough and loves to fight, but kind and loves to create music on the piano. The woman who faced a being intent on the destruction of everything, and managed to win the fight over countless different timelines. Yet also the woman who likes to eat warm ice cream. The woman whose will to live was do incredibly powerful, regardless of the circumstances, she will be able to surpass death. Whose levels of determination are completely unseen of and what should quite honestly be naturally impossible for any other monster we know to have ever existed. The woman whose name originates from a story that inspired the most iconic mermaid story of all time and though in the original Ondine myth she would literally die without a man we now know her as a lesbian warrior icon. The woman who felt the souls of everyone in the world. The woman who may seem cold yet cares so incredibly deeply for those close to her and will do anything to protect them, will suffer crushing pain at losing them. The woman who refused to let the world die and transformed herself into an incredibly powerful being with heart covered armour and her once gone eye now shining out as a spear itself.

[ultraericthered]

Was earlier browsing the TV Tropes Ass Pull / Dragon Ball page for the most notable examples of total Ass Pull swerves seen across the Dragon Ball franchise, and I was curious in what was considered examples of such from out of the late Akira Toriyama's writing for the original Dragon Ball manga, back when he was young and in his prime. Among the handful of moments detailed on the page, there are some I agree to be unjustified, clumsily written and poorly implemented Ass Pulls (most notably all examples from the Majin Buu Saga) but a few where I honestly disagree and believe the ideas and the writing for them was sharper, more solid and sufficiently justified within the work than the TV Tropers gave them credit for.

To cover them all and relieve the best and worst of Toriyama:

King Piccolo hits Goku hard enough to stop his heartbeat. but it starts beating again after Piccolo's gone - NO. I think what people really take offense to here is the timing of it, that Piccolo leaves Goku for dead and then his heart just so happens to resume beating after he's departed from the scene. That is silly and contrived as heck. But the event itself is sensible considering that Piccolo assumed this moment of caridac arrest to have killed Goku because no human, no matter how strong and good at martial arts, could live through that. But Goku isn't human. Even this very saga stresses something is very superhuman and otherworldly about Goku, including why he had a tail and could transform into a giant ape. Piccolo had no knowledge of the Saiyans and how they're strong enough to recover from near death experiences and come back stronger than ever, so he had no way of knowing that "killing" Goku like that might not stick for long.

The Ultra Divine Water - YES. That was weird. It is indeed a direct contradiction to the previous arc at Korin's Tower and if such a thing had always existed, it would've been nice for Korin to have hinted at it back when we last saw him even if he didn't want Goku to have it.

Nail merges his life energy with Piccolo - NO. There'd been nothing saying that warrior class Namekians of the same type as Piccolo could do this before, but there'd also been nothing saying that they couldn't. What's important to remember is that this isn't a case like Kami and Piccolo re-merging, where two halves become one whole Namekian again: Nail was beaten to within an inch of his life and could've died out there with all the power still within him going to waste, but since Piccolo came along and needed the extra strength to go toe to toe with Freeza, Nail decided to let Piccolo essentially mercy kill him by absorbing his life energy and ki into himself.

Vegeta can suddenly detect power without a scouter after his fight on Earth - NO. The only thing that makes this seen nonsensical is a line in the Japanese version about him being able to awaken and attain this ability because "he's a Saiyan", even though it's an ability that has been used by non-Saiyans all the way back to Mr. Popo. In context, it still makes sense that Vegeta unlocked the potential to do this when in battle against opponents who could do so, similar to how he learned to conceal his full power level from scouters at the same time. In fact, it actually first kicked in for Vegeta during that battle on Earth, as towards the end he could sense that his enemies were all "barely clinging to life" without even having to go near them.

The Zenaki Boost - NO. I think it's misrepresented in that entry. It claims that Vegeta's minor boost in power after a genuinely near fatal beatdown from Zarbon doesn't mesh with him later not being nearly as beaten down by Recoome yet recieving another boost that puts him on par with First Form Freeza from it...but why, seeing as it only made him stronger than Jeice and Ginyu? Being now able to match Freeza in his first form isn't the same as "surpassing Freeza in his first form", so it's not too extreme a boost. It then says Goku was only "somewhat stronger than Ginyu" after the Vegeta battle, recovery, and constant training on the spaceship, but after being healed from his body getting roughed up thanks to Ginyu, he's able to match Freeza at 50% of his total power, strong enough to not risk his life via Kaio-Ken x10 and even able to pull off a Kaio-Ken x20, and that is somehow makes no sense...but that boost he got that allowed him to be somewhat stronger than Ginyu was talked up in-story as being the breakthrough that put Goku towards becoming a Super Saiyan, so why is any of this in any way a surprising, unforseen and unwarranted development? It also falsely states that "keep in mind, Freeza's second form outmatched Piccolo, who was ten times stronger than Ginyu had been", but it was Freeza's third form that outmatched Piccolo: in his second form, Freeza thought he could outmatch Piccolo but Piccolo was wearing his weighted clothing throughout the fight and showed that without it, he was an exact match in strength, speed, stamina, and full Ki power for Freeza in that form. It goes on to say that the idea almost entirely disappears after the Namek Saga since Vegeta doesn't simply try to fight Android 18 after his beatdown at her hands nor does Goku try to enter the fight rather than do more training after he recovers from his virus, but this plainly neglects details of how that story actually went down - Vegeta didn't commit to training to ascend beyond a Super Saiyan until after he learned both that Cell existed and that Piccolo now surpassed him, and Goku knew there was a greater threat when he recovered so he felt the boost on its own wouldn't be enough for it.

Additionally, I know one could nitpick that the Zenkai Boost existing renders previous training and comebacks by Goku pointless. Like what was the purpose of Goku scaling Korin's Tower and fighting to take the water from Korin when he could've just fought Tao again with the boost he got? What was the purpose of Goku having to attain the Ultra Divine Water if he could've just fought Piccolo again with the boost he got? Why train with Mr. Popo when he could've just looked for a way to nearly kill himself in order to get strong enough to fight Piccolo Jr.? Why did he need to run down Snake Way and get to King Kai's world to train under King Kai? OK, for those first three, Goku nor any of the other characters knew what a Saiyan was, that Goku was one, and that the Zenkai Boost was a thing for Saiyans. And simply getting the Zenkai Boost is in of itself not enough to truly improve a Saiyan's full inner strength and mastery over their new boosted power. Vegeta is the only one who's ever assumed that it is because he's an high class elite warrior to whom strides in the buildup and enhancement of his own power comes naturally to him and he arrogantly assumes that this is enough to ultimately ascend him to the level of Super Saiyan. Goku has never believed that - he's always put in the work to bring out and gain full skillful control over the new power he surpasses previous limits in order to attain. The training doesn't substitute for the boost, it works in concurrence with it and enhances it. Vegeta and even Freeza learn from example.

Freeza says five minutes until Namek explodes, yet the fight goes on for much longer - YES. Freeza was foolish and cannot tell time.

The Hyperbolic Time Chamber - YES. The existence of the Time Chamber isn't an Ass Pull itself, but the idea that young Goku was able to train in it and withstand its gravity yet later had trouble with the gravity on King Kai's world, and the fact that none of the fighters who were training right there at Kami's Lookout were told to or ever thought to use it for the coming fight against Nappa and Vegeta, are definite plot holes that Toriyama had no good excuse for.

The Cell Juniors - KIND OF? I think the idea is that since Cell has Namekian cells in him from Piccolo and Saiyan cells in him including those of Vegeta and Nappa, he had both the egg-making ability of King Piccolo and the memory of how to plant and grow Saibamen, but given his unique bio-organic body structure, he's able to make the seeds/eggs for such creatures inside of him and they grow once he spits them out onto planetary soil. And they come out in his own image since they inherited energy from the cells that make them. However, since he never explicity states this, it is sort of bizarre.

Cell's return as Super Perfect Cell after self-destructing- KIND OF? Two parts of it were feasible, at least: Cell returning to his Perfect Form even without 18 inside of him was due to him rettaining the memory of that form in tandem with the huge boost in power he got from the power of Super Saiyan 2 Gohan he'd been put on the recieving end of but now awakened within his cells. It's said that "he'd been beaten up several times and never once got a boost from it" until this near-death experience... didn't he, though? None of his previous beatdowns were near severe enough for him to get such a boost, and in the two where he did get outmatched in raw strength and/or Ki control power (against Future Trunks and against Goku), he did quickly rebound with a boost in strength, speed, and technique. And as for him learning the Instant Transmission, while Cell had seen Goku use it multiple times without learning it, it was made a point of that Cell was increasing his speed via watching Goku's, including the Instant Transmission, and as the page states "the only noteworthy difference is that Cell was taken along for the ride that time". Yes, Goku literally had his other hand on Cell the entire time as he blew up while he used Instant Transmission. Cell can emulate the strength of those whose cells he shares, almost as though absorbing some of their Ki power into himself. What else was going to happen there should Cell happen to live through his self destruction?

The one part that's an Ass Pull and plot hole of epic proportions is that Cell was able to regenerate from near-total annihilation into next to nothing to back whole, in his Perfect form, at the peak of his Ki power even after all that he'd expended in the earlier fight because, as he explains, "he can survive anything so long as the nucleus located in his head stays in-tact." Which directly contradicts the earlier part in his fight with Goku where Goku disintegrated his head with a point-blank Kamehameha, and Cell regenerated his upper torso and head like it was nothing. The original English dub for the anime actually gave a better excuse, that so long as so much as a single cell within his core nucleus survives, he's unkillable and can come back from anything. So even if Goku had blown up the nucleus along with Cell's head, if a single cell leaked through Cell's body in-tact, he could come back from it. And even if his entire body blew up, if the remaining nucleus still contained a single cell, he'd respawn. It's only through Gohan's final blast that Cell's nucleus and every single cell derived from it gets completely obliterated, which kills Cell.

Gotenks and Trunks become Child Super Saiyans - YES. I've harped on this one before as being one of the earliest downfalls in the Buu Saga. Nothing against Goten and Trunks or Gotenks for that matter, but how Super Saiyan power-ups got handled in regards to their characters was cheap, diminishing, and inexcusable of Toriyama.

Piccolo regenerates his whole body after it got broken because his head still remained. - YES. Didn't Piccolo get killed by Nappa with his entire body in-tact? Weren't there earlier risks of Piccolo dying by Freeza and Cell shooting him through the heart? Well, the heart is located in the part of Piccolo's body that got accidentally shattered by Goten and Trunks when he was turned to stone, yet he can now just live through that because the head is where regeneration starts for him? Where did this come from? Why was this gag even needed?

Super Saiyan 3 - YES. The concept of the form less so than the way it got implemented in a nebulous and downright contradictory way. Earlier in the saga when Goku is asked to kill Buu, he says point-blank that at his current power level he could only equal Vegeta but there's no way he could take on and kill the likes of Buu...only for him to then reveal he attained Super Saiyan 3 in the afterlife, meaning he was actually far stronger than Vegeta and was holding back on him during the Majin Vegeta fight, and that he absolutely could take on and possibly even kill Buu. And then there's no given reason for why he doesn't kill Buu in this form, much less use it ever again against the stronger, more evil Buus later on in the saga. And to top this off, Gotenks is able to skip Super Saiyan 2 and reach this form even when in the manga he had know way of even knowing about it let alone how to attain it, which is when the saga, and with it the entire original DB series, jumped the shark even before the death knell of Gohan getting outfought by Buu and absorbed by him.

That along with....

Buu's scream breaks open the sealed off Hyperbolic Time Chamber - YES. And what's annoying about this one is that it could've worked easily and raised no eyebrows - there's a full panel of Buu all tensed up and roaring in fury over it, so the idea that Buu released all of his pent up power into the roar and it creates a small crack in the fabric of the chamber dimension that's small enough for only Buu to access by turning into his liquid form and seeping through it, would work perfectly. But instead, after the initial roar, Buu screams about how "IT'S NOT FAIR!" and THAT is what unleashes the power that blows through the chamber and creates a hole for him to escape through, and the anime makes this longer and even more dumbfounding. This was Toriyama writing himself into a corner for the sake of some dumb humor and not knowing how to immediately write himself out of it in a way that could bring Buu back out as a threat but still inhibit the good guys so that there's any semblence of remaining tension.

Vegito defuses back into Goku and Vegeta inside of Buu despite the fusion having been said to be permanent - YES. It's not explained why it happens just because Vegito's been eaten by Buu, it doesn't make sense, but then again nothing about the Potara earrings and the fusion they bring about ever made sense, and its setup only gets more contradicted the more the earrings get used as a device in later franchise entries. I don't care that a movie beat Toriyama to showing Goku and Vegeta fuse via the fusion dance, he didn't let the fourth movie's "False Super Saiyan" stop him from debuting the real Super Saiyan form he'd envisoned, so why let Movie Gogeta stop him from debuting Real Gogeta. Given that he would years later do exactly that in Dragon Ball Super: Broly, I think even he regrets not doing so. When you introduce the concept of fusion into a saga along with an exact method for achieving it, stick to that method and those rules!

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime,

What became of Megaligator after he came into possession of the Creation Matrix? Was it ever retrieved by Megatron and the rest of the Green Order?

Dear Vernal Venturer,

I believe I gave you a very truncated version of events before, that Megalligator reconciled with Megatron to become the joint Green Compassionate Convoys, but I suppose I never told you the full story.

After once again evading the judgmental fist of his brother Convobat, Megalligator continued on his quest to kill all Megatrons. The silent Golden Ager Soundwave had taken him to the Green Planet for a reason, and soon it became clear. They found a great pyramid, its Bulkhead guards having long since abandoned the Green Temple in grief over the loss of their commander, Green Tender Convoy. All save one: a large BotBot (large by BotBot standards, about as tall as Megalligator), who introduced himself as Bulk Gulp.

Bulk Gulp showed deference to Soundwave, but initially was wary of Megalligator, butting heads with him almost immediately—each considered the other’s alt-form useless! What’s more, Bulk Gulp darkly noted, Megalligator reminded him of “the new guy”.

Under duress, Bulk Gulp would lead the two visitors up the pyramid. Translating from Soundwave’s total silence, he explained that the weapon Megalligator needed for his quest was contained in the temple, and they would need to get it from its protector. Heartened by his plans finally moving along, Megalligator’s confidence quickly turned to dismay as he found none other than a Megatron- no, the Megatron, hunched in a corner, contemplating the Green Matrix enshrined at the top of the pyramid. Megatron could only note that he wasn’t able to get the Green Matrix to open before Megalligator lunged at him, raining blows upon his face.

Megalligator shouted what he had always known: that he and his brothers were clones, and while Convobat had been born “good”, the clone “son” of a Convoy, Megalligator had been born “evil”, forged from samples the Straxus twins had stolen from Megatron Omega. Megatron said nothing, realizing that his millennia of ambition had left him alone in an unfriendly past, separate from his dearest friend. Bulk Gulp and Soundwave watched in despair. Soundwave had never been good at communication or interpersonal relationships, and his bringing the two green warriors together had only brought further misery. The Green Order had fled the temple not just in grief, but in disappointment that a former tyrant was to be their new leader.

It was at this moment that Sideways attacked the temple, the space biker having been hired by the Straxuses to track and destroy Megalligator. Sideways handily took on both him and Megatron, cruelly declaring that no matter what anybody said, they’d both always be monsters. Then, a voice called out from the Green Matrix. To be a Green Warrior was to defend nature and nature was not something to be defined by others, but by understanding both our roots and the skies our branches reached for. It was here that Megalligator understood his true power: to super-robot lifeforms, his techokinesis was control over life itself. Using the same connection to his progenitor that connected Convobat to Blue Big Convoy, Megalligator synced his Spark to Megatron’s, suffusing him with life energy and giving him the strength he needed to defeat Sideways with a Mega Fusion Buster drill attack.

From the Creation Matrix came a vision of Green Tender Convoy. He explained that neither Megatron or Megalligator were suited to be his successor. Megatron was a being of half-life, an irradiated Spark piloting the unliving body of an abomination created by his past self. Megalligator was a being of death, an assassin overflowing with energy, whose only goal was the death of his foes to prove his life. But half-life and living for death are both forms of life, and their duality would allow them to surpass Green Tender Convoy as joint commanders: Green Compassionate Convoys. With his blessing, both took hold of the Green Matrix, and lit the beacon at the top of the pyramid.

Soundwave could only smile. His was not a perfect plan, but he would see Primus saved. As he took a triumphant swig from Bulk Gulp, he knew that His will had been passed down.

[necrophcge]

Created as a biological weapon for an intergalactic war they never saw by a precursor civilization that destroyed itself, the Necrophage are a seething tide of hunger and violence that destroy what little they cannot consume. Each Necrophage possesses chitin plates sturdy enough to turn away mundane weaponry, with claws sharp enough to rend flesh with ease and jaws strong enough to crush stone into powder. Born from eggs laid within the slain corpses of their enemies, the Necrophage that emerges can potentially carry elements of their host's DNA, oftentimes resulting in accelerated adaptations to their environments.

Structured into a hive and interconnected via the strands of a web of collective consciousness, the Necrophage are little more than simple beasts in terms of intelligence, governed by their instincts save for when He Who Meddles commands them. They are divided into four categories based on their relative roles within the swarm.

Foragers are the most commonly seen of the Necrophage, occupying the roles of worker and warrior alike as they expand the tunnels of the hive and swarm over the enemy in a biting, clawing horde. Their bile is highly acidic, allowing them to dissolve all manner of materials whether they be obstacle or opponent. With highly acute senses, foragers are often sent to scout out prospective feeding grounds, leaving pheromones for their kindred to eventually follow en masse.

Necrodrones are swift and deadly, quickly striking at their prey before disappearing just as soon as they appeared in sudden blitzes. Easily the fastest of all the Necrophage despite their relatively large size, they can cover vast swathes of land within hours, the drumbeat of their wings oftentimes the only warning a populace might receive of the arrival of the rest of the swarm. Capable of spewing clouds of caustic venom, necrodrones often swoop in to rain death upon heavily defended positions to soften them up for their slower kindred.

Battle Born are spawned for when the Necrophage move to open war, bursting from the corpses of the freshly fallen dead fully-formed and bristling with violence. Their inability to feel pain allows them to fight on past wounds that would incapacitate other members of the hive, and the culling of the synapses responsible for fear within their minds prevents them from being deterred even in the face of guaranteed obliteration. Unskilled at tasks associated with anything beyond the scope of battle and requiring vast quantities of food to sustain their high metabolisms lest they starve, battle born are typically lulled into a state of hibernation when the need for them is not so great.

Proliferators are the living, breathing hatcheries of the Necrophage hive and are the beings responsible for bringing more of the swarm into being. Leviathans of chitin and flesh, they are slow moving and ill-suited for battle, preferring to be hidden within the confines of the hive or surrounded by more combative members of their kindred while awaiting the arrival of hosts and fresh corpses to incubate clutches of eggs. Notably proliferator bile is a key compound in the creation of battle born and highly infectious to living beings; when a creature infected with the bile dies, the remains are rapidly broken down into a slurry that facilitates the growth and subsequent birth of a battle born within mere hours.

While considered to be outliers due to their extreme rarity in comparison to standard Necrophage, instances of Necrophage that've been exposed to the potent substance known as Dust can manifest abilities that far surpass those of their lesser kindred. While none of these Champions have exhibited the same sapience and enhanced intellect that He Who Meddles acquired from his own exposure to Dust, they categorically possess superhuman strength and resilience, making them perfectly suited to pit against the greatest foes of the hive.

[sinterling]

Sint’s Warcraft Lore Journal

Entry 1: Fatebreaking.

As has become aware to the mortals who trespassed into realms beyond our own, reality is constructed of patterns and weaves, among which Fate itself is most strongly felt.

Fate is woven into the fabric of reality. It is not a hard fact, mind you, but Fate is our greatest limiter. There are things we simply are destined to not be capable of doing, problems we should be incapable of solving. It is not because some overriding will decided our destiny, it is simply because we should not possess this ability.

But then comes will. Will has long been studied for its strange properties, as it has come to be understood that emotion itself is a magical domain. Should something be capable of resisting but also be capable of being subjected to and a subject of magic, then it itself is magic. In comprehending this, it becomes evident that emotion is on the same scale as soul and, by necessity, reality.

So then, should someone master their will, then Fate is their power, or rather - defying Fate is their power.

Where many mortal warriors should have faced certain death, wielded power beyond what should be possible, have destroyed and defeated things far surpassing them - it is not because they were specially gifted. It was not due to some strange biological quirk nor no intervention from the Gods. It was not due to a hidden, innate power.

It was because they became a Fatebreaker. They broke the weave of Fate and stood taller than the pattern of reality.

So ask yourself. Was it the Axe of Cenarius that injured Sargeras, or was it Broxigar? Was it luck that Varian Wrynn destroyed that Fel Reaver on the Broken Shore? Did Arthas simply not wield Frostmourne effectively when he failed to kill a single dwarf, even though that wicked blade slaughtered two kingdoms?

Heed my advice, fair adventurer. Be wary around those who march into a mad world of magic and monsters with only a blade to guide them.

[nvrcmplt]

What is the opposite to werewolves? Beasts of the night, the moon and pack mentality… Some would say Humans, Vampires out of rivalry for the night, but what if I told you it was in fact beasts of the Savannah? Sandy beige pelts and manes as thick as the forests wolves run through? With eyes wide and amber, glowing with the stretches of the Earth under the unforgiving sunlight? A place Wolves wouldn't dare venture without plans and knowledge. Where paws a large as dinner plates pass over sandy grasslands, venturing miles of their homelands to protect their families from the more determined of creatures.

Where the ritual to become a beast of the night is done upon pregnancy, a shaman that is blessed by the gifts of Abedemak The War God but also Fertility God. To share the bleeding and to be birthed within the same week of this, guarantees the powers of the Lion God within the nature of the newborn. Proven by the fast growth of claws and the furless tailbone extending. Upon such successes, rituals and festivals are thrown for the women, praised to the high heavens and held with nothing but reverence for their gifts upon the world. The men blessed and fed the first meats of kills to thank them for protecting their family in the hours of need.

It's said these tribes folk are prideful as any lion and if not more, facing stronger, larger and plentiful of enemies but unlike Lion prides where the risks outweigh the pros of a singular catch. The blessing of Abedemek invigorates them. Taking on the mantle piece of fur, muscle and strength - with hunger in their gums and prey in their sights but they keep the wisdom and tactics of humanity in their minds. Extending in both length and height, weight and power - with claws and tails for balance. The Tribes folk welcome on the changes of Abedemek's gifts, a blessing from the Sun itself fuels their shifts and in turn… They become unstoppable.

Running upon four legs and two, spear, dagger and bow - claws, fangs and might.

The bestial shifters of the Savannah, once more evolve - taking down the bodies of buffalo in sets of threes, not enough to diminish their supply but to let it heal for longer. With full adults being pulled to their homes, dissected and cleaned by the elders and women in training for becoming warriors - the meat is sun dried and salted. Shared amongst their bloodline and praised in sharing with the Lion God themselves.

Oluwayemisi, she stood tall amongst them all, learning from the Shaman since young to take their role when time came. It was a hard job, to keep the pride in faiths grip, but it wasn't undoable. With the voice of Abedemek flowing through her veins and his light in her bones - she spoke and worshiped with ease. Teaching with gentle motherhood and with the strength of a leader.

Even so, when she was given a vision upon the eve of celebration. Through the blood and plant mixtures in clay pots, her visions were vivid. A warning, a hellish sight of bloodshed and grief - but her vision cut with knowledge of a new beginning. Fate, was a realization of life, but she knew it wouldn't be long until it would come. To save her grief for another time, her youth was still hers… and with the warning given. She leads her Pride as she knew best. To make them thrive in happiness and to find their own ways… and hers, was with him. The latest warrior who has been making eyes upon her since he hit puberty and had his tenth victorious hunt.

They courted, they married, they gave each other their everything and they were blessed by Abedemek three times - until that fateful vision came true. Their newborn son, Osakwe - cherished like his brothers, Oyekunda and Olabisi , born before him and just as strong in their bloodline - the pride was attacked. Gunfire and violence, technology and weaponry that surpassed their own - though they couldn't withstand the physical monsters that they were. Death on both sides tipped the scales back and forth, but the damage was done upon a backup army of sorts. Poachers of their own tones and greed science. Questions that could have been answered if asked in the right manner… but no. Death on her tongue and Oluwayemisi promised her name to her love.

His rage sang with Abedemak's wrath - his war charge took several vehicles out. The fire high as his fangs bared, and his claws clenched through throats and spinal cord. His size doubled that of humans with their weaponry but it was not their machines that ceased the beast's rampage - but the pathetic and cowardly hostage holding. His son, the newest born - held within arms and threatened with a gun in his face. The crying was like nothing but knives in his heart - he could hear his eldest and second born roaring in defiance themselves but everyone else was mute. After all, death upon the females, these humans knew that they held the true power of these species…

But they did not know of the power between giving names. Oluwayemisi --- held his jowls tight, bleeding from the tension but allowed his grief and promise to take his beatings in silence. When strapped down and chained up with his two other children, he watched them all retreat with needles and laughter on their faces as his son was taken away separately.

Rage rattled their bones.

They shared the same thoughts… the same promise, in blood and death.

Break free and find each other.

Oluwayemisi watched his children be taken apart. Separate tents and containment, handshakes given, and the engines roared to life to take them away from the bloody scene.

Oyekunda and Olabisi taken for science.

Oluwayemisi taken by the army.

Osakwe taken for trafficking.

[bestworstcase]

waves hands vaguely

“we could be the gods of this world, our powers surpass all others, our souls transcend death” / “for it is in passing that we achieve immortality […] infinite in distance and unbound by death”

+

( salem saw the gods try to obliterate humanity and fail. she and ozma are not the only people whose souls transcended death. i am desperate to know if she’s figured this out yet, and almost positive that she has. )

+

consistent association of the silver eyes with 1. death/reaper imagery, and 2. the broken moon, the ultimate symbol of humanity’s extinction and revival

+

ruby ‘unlocked’ the silver glare at the moment she witnessed pyrrha’s death

+

salem evidently spent centuries hunting silver eyed warriors down—until she encountered summer, who is now presumed dead, and learned something that drastically changed the nature of her interest in them, and possibly initiated the series of experiments that led to the creation of the hound ~15 years later

+

…white void… white glare… what does it mean what does it all mean

+

desire to preserve life, desire to protect, love and defiance of loss, the very essence of humanity is what empowers the silver eyes

+

CORDOVIN

=

the silver eyes aren’t a gift from the god of light they are,, perhaps, something fucky that happened when humanity clawed itself back from extinction—beyond the power or understanding of the gods—humanity literally unbound by death and unbound, specifically, from the shackle of divine blessings that always, always came with strings attached

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

the last princess (5)

Old Sharlayan, two days after the Scions speak with Montichaigne

-------------------

Astrid had not prayed to Thaliak since her son’s death.  It was impossible, a fossilized stone that just simply could not be removed.  Nor was she able to pray to the god when her granddaughter had fled--she had tried, Twelve she’d honestly tried.  But all she could do was scream, curse, and wail--for like everything else that had happened, it was her fault.  Her country over her family, and she’d not only paid the price in her flesh and blood, but in others as well.  All she’d been able to do over the past years was nurture a faint hope, a wish, that her grandchild was alive and well...

But this?

Roderick’s baby--staring down the members of the Forum with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn--she’d known, the shock of it searing itself all the way down into her bones.  She knew the tilt of those eyebrows, that slight little pout--that had been her son, her baby--when something had made him angry--

My grandchild!  Everything else had been a buzz in her ears.  Astrid could only sit rooted in her chair, staring down at the Forum’s floor.  Just barely she heard the call for a vote--and had immediately thrown up her hand-no no, the Scions were staying and if they were cast out she’d find a way to make them stay...  She couldn’t remember the walk back to her home--fighting the instinct to chase after the Scions, wanting nothing more than just to damn her duty, damn the Forum, damn her country--and just hug her granddaughter.  Helena had found her collapsed in a hysterical mess on the front porch. 

My grandchild, she lives, she lives, she lives!

Two days later, Astrid still wasn’t over the shock.  And her normal comfort--work--had done nothing to soothe her agitated mind.  She’d made quite a few mistakes, so many that her co-workers had started to question her.  But fortunately she could pass it off as illness--and had fled before someone else had noticed the cracks in her icy facade.  A long-forgotten habit had her going to the fountains at the Rostra, she couldn’t pray but she could meditate...or try to.

My granddaughter is Eorzea’s Warrior of Light?  Stories had made their way to Sharlayan of course, of what was happening in the city-states and beyond.  And the Forum kept tabs on any scholars and magic-users who showed great promise and potential.  Astrid knew that they’d been keeping their eye on one particular arcanist who had surpassed all others in what was known of the Allagan summoning arts, and had later found out that same summoner was the Warrior of Light, but never in her wildest imaginings of her grandchild’s fate, had she expected this.

How did this even happen?  How had Kari--no.  Riven.  She had to remember that.  Not Kari, not the pale, sickly, wraith that Astrid had saved--but Riven, the phoenix rising from the ashes, who’d stepped onto the boat to Eorzea, never looking back...unable to look back.

And it was Astrid’s fault that she couldn’t.

It was safer that way.  It all worked out.  Nobody knows.  Nobody remembers what she looked like.  And even if anyone who could wanted to try, Riven...  Astrid’s fingers trembled.  Riven looked happy.  Healthy.  Whole.  She’d put on weight, her eyes were clear, and her aether--Astrid had dared just a peek, and the sight had threatened to blind her. 

My granddaughter is Hydaelyn’s chosen...  Now Astrid could feel worry start to twist a knot in her belly.  The Forum had blockaded the Scions for the moment, but Master Matoya’s apprentice had made a valid point.  The state of the world meant that possibly very soon, the major reason why she’d sacrificed her family would be revealed.  And when that took place...

The Exodus.  Never had Astrid been so suddenly and painfully aware of the plan.  It’d been in the back of her mind yes, but there’d also been a hope--perhaps whatever evil would come, it would happen after she and her loved ones had returned to the Lifestream.  And she’d started to form a plan to ensure that Ka--Riven would have had a spot onboard the ship... this all being before Riven had left.

Now Riven was back, and the Scions were fully aware that the Forum was up to something.  Astrid had no doubt that the two were going to collide once more, and if that happened...

What do I do?  What can I do?  How could she protect her grandchild while at the same time keeping their secrets safe and hidden?  Astrid had done her best to weave a spider’s web of deceit and illusion, but now with the possible culmination of the city-state’s divine charge, she was beginning to fear that she couldn’t unravel it just enough to ensure Riven’s safety.

-------------------------

the last princess (1)

the last princess (2)

the last princess (3)

the last princess (4)

[travelsinser]

Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean

And who were they who seemed thus doomed? Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean there dwelt the scattered race whom we call Greeks, who had gradually worked out a form of life totally differing from the old, who had wonderfully expanded the old arts of life and modes of thought. With them the destinies of the world then rested for all its future progress. With them all was life, change, and activity. Broken into sections by infinite bays, mountains, and rivers, scattered over a long line of coasts and islands, the Greek race, with natures as varied as their own beautiful land, as restless as their own seas, had never been moulded into one great solid empire, and early threw off the weight of a ruling caste of priests. No theocracy or religious system of society ever could establish itself amidst a race so full of life and motion, exposed to influences from without, divided within.

They had borrowed the arts of life from the great Eastern peoples, and, in borrowing, had wonderfully improved them. The alphabet, shipbuilding, commerce, they had from the Phoenicians; architecture, sculpture, painting, from the Assyrian or Lydian empires. Geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, they had borrowed from the Egyptians. The various fabrics, arts, and appliances of the East came to them in profusion across the seas. Their earliest lawgivers, rulers, and philosophers had all travelled through the great Asian kingdom, and came back to their small country with a new sense of all the institutions and ideas of civilised life ephesus sightseeing.

The Greeks borrowed

The Greeks borrowed, they did not imitate. Alone as yet, they had thrown off the tyranny of custom, of caste, of kingcraft, and of priestcraft. They only had moulded the ponderous column and the uncouth colossus of the East into the graceful shaft and the lifelike figure of the gods. They only had dared to think freely, to ask themselves what or whence was this earth, to meet the problems of abstract thought, to probe the foundations of right and wrong. Lastly, they alone had conceived the idea of a people not the servants of one man or of a class, not chained down in a rigid order of submission, but the free and equal citizens of a republic; for on them first had dawned the idea of a civilised community in which men should be not masters and slaves, but brothers.

On poured the myriads of Asia, creating a famine as they marched, drying up the streams, and covering the seas with their ships. Who does not know the tale of that immortal effort ? — how the Athenians armed old and young, burned their city, and went on board their ships — how for three days Leonidas and his three hundred held the pass against the Asian host, and lay down, each warrior at his post, calmly smiling in death — how the Greek ships lay in ambush in their islands, for the mighty fleet of Persia — how the unwieldy mass was broken and pierced by its dauntless enemy — how, all day, the battle raged beneath the eyes of the great king himself, and, at its close, the seas were heaving with the wrecks of the shattered host. Of all* the battles in history, this one of Salamis was the most precious to the human race. No other tale of war can surpass it. For in that war the heroism, the genius, the marvellous audacity shown by these pigmy fleets and armies of a small, weak race, withstood and crushed the entire power of Asia, and preserved from extinction the life and intellect of future ages.

[historyholidays]

Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean

And who were they who seemed thus doomed? Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean there dwelt the scattered race whom we call Greeks, who had gradually worked out a form of life totally differing from the old, who had wonderfully expanded the old arts of life and modes of thought. With them the destinies of the world then rested for all its future progress. With them all was life, change, and activity. Broken into sections by infinite bays, mountains, and rivers, scattered over a long line of coasts and islands, the Greek race, with natures as varied as their own beautiful land, as restless as their own seas, had never been moulded into one great solid empire, and early threw off the weight of a ruling caste of priests. No theocracy or religious system of society ever could establish itself amidst a race so full of life and motion, exposed to influences from without, divided within.

They had borrowed the arts of life from the great Eastern peoples, and, in borrowing, had wonderfully improved them. The alphabet, shipbuilding, commerce, they had from the Phoenicians; architecture, sculpture, painting, from the Assyrian or Lydian empires. Geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, they had borrowed from the Egyptians. The various fabrics, arts, and appliances of the East came to them in profusion across the seas. Their earliest lawgivers, rulers, and philosophers had all travelled through the great Asian kingdom, and came back to their small country with a new sense of all the institutions and ideas of civilised life ephesus sightseeing.

The Greeks borrowed

The Greeks borrowed, they did not imitate. Alone as yet, they had thrown off the tyranny of custom, of caste, of kingcraft, and of priestcraft. They only had moulded the ponderous column and the uncouth colossus of the East into the graceful shaft and the lifelike figure of the gods. They only had dared to think freely, to ask themselves what or whence was this earth, to meet the problems of abstract thought, to probe the foundations of right and wrong. Lastly, they alone had conceived the idea of a people not the servants of one man or of a class, not chained down in a rigid order of submission, but the free and equal citizens of a republic; for on them first had dawned the idea of a civilised community in which men should be not masters and slaves, but brothers.

On poured the myriads of Asia, creating a famine as they marched, drying up the streams, and covering the seas with their ships. Who does not know the tale of that immortal effort ? — how the Athenians armed old and young, burned their city, and went on board their ships — how for three days Leonidas and his three hundred held the pass against the Asian host, and lay down, each warrior at his post, calmly smiling in death — how the Greek ships lay in ambush in their islands, for the mighty fleet of Persia — how the unwieldy mass was broken and pierced by its dauntless enemy — how, all day, the battle raged beneath the eyes of the great king himself, and, at its close, the seas were heaving with the wrecks of the shattered host. Of all* the battles in history, this one of Salamis was the most precious to the human race. No other tale of war can surpass it. For in that war the heroism, the genius, the marvellous audacity shown by these pigmy fleets and armies of a small, weak race, withstood and crushed the entire power of Asia, and preserved from extinction the life and intellect of future ages.

[travelsback]

Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean

And who were they who seemed thus doomed? Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean there dwelt the scattered race whom we call Greeks, who had gradually worked out a form of life totally differing from the old, who had wonderfully expanded the old arts of life and modes of thought. With them the destinies of the world then rested for all its future progress. With them all was life, change, and activity. Broken into sections by infinite bays, mountains, and rivers, scattered over a long line of coasts and islands, the Greek race, with natures as varied as their own beautiful land, as restless as their own seas, had never been moulded into one great solid empire, and early threw off the weight of a ruling caste of priests. No theocracy or religious system of society ever could establish itself amidst a race so full of life and motion, exposed to influences from without, divided within.

They had borrowed the arts of life from the great Eastern peoples, and, in borrowing, had wonderfully improved them. The alphabet, shipbuilding, commerce, they had from the Phoenicians; architecture, sculpture, painting, from the Assyrian or Lydian empires. Geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, they had borrowed from the Egyptians. The various fabrics, arts, and appliances of the East came to them in profusion across the seas. Their earliest lawgivers, rulers, and philosophers had all travelled through the great Asian kingdom, and came back to their small country with a new sense of all the institutions and ideas of civilised life ephesus sightseeing.

The Greeks borrowed

The Greeks borrowed, they did not imitate. Alone as yet, they had thrown off the tyranny of custom, of caste, of kingcraft, and of priestcraft. They only had moulded the ponderous column and the uncouth colossus of the East into the graceful shaft and the lifelike figure of the gods. They only had dared to think freely, to ask themselves what or whence was this earth, to meet the problems of abstract thought, to probe the foundations of right and wrong. Lastly, they alone had conceived the idea of a people not the servants of one man or of a class, not chained down in a rigid order of submission, but the free and equal citizens of a republic; for on them first had dawned the idea of a civilised community in which men should be not masters and slaves, but brothers.

On poured the myriads of Asia, creating a famine as they marched, drying up the streams, and covering the seas with their ships. Who does not know the tale of that immortal effort ? — how the Athenians armed old and young, burned their city, and went on board their ships — how for three days Leonidas and his three hundred held the pass against the Asian host, and lay down, each warrior at his post, calmly smiling in death — how the Greek ships lay in ambush in their islands, for the mighty fleet of Persia — how the unwieldy mass was broken and pierced by its dauntless enemy — how, all day, the battle raged beneath the eyes of the great king himself, and, at its close, the seas were heaving with the wrecks of the shattered host. Of all* the battles in history, this one of Salamis was the most precious to the human race. No other tale of war can surpass it. For in that war the heroism, the genius, the marvellous audacity shown by these pigmy fleets and armies of a small, weak race, withstood and crushed the entire power of Asia, and preserved from extinction the life and intellect of future ages.

[communisttravel]

Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean

And who were they who seemed thus doomed? Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean there dwelt the scattered race whom we call Greeks, who had gradually worked out a form of life totally differing from the old, who had wonderfully expanded the old arts of life and modes of thought. With them the destinies of the world then rested for all its future progress. With them all was life, change, and activity. Broken into sections by infinite bays, mountains, and rivers, scattered over a long line of coasts and islands, the Greek race, with natures as varied as their own beautiful land, as restless as their own seas, had never been moulded into one great solid empire, and early threw off the weight of a ruling caste of priests. No theocracy or religious system of society ever could establish itself amidst a race so full of life and motion, exposed to influences from without, divided within.

They had borrowed the arts of life from the great Eastern peoples, and, in borrowing, had wonderfully improved them. The alphabet, shipbuilding, commerce, they had from the Phoenicians; architecture, sculpture, painting, from the Assyrian or Lydian empires. Geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, they had borrowed from the Egyptians. The various fabrics, arts, and appliances of the East came to them in profusion across the seas. Their earliest lawgivers, rulers, and philosophers had all travelled through the great Asian kingdom, and came back to their small country with a new sense of all the institutions and ideas of civilised life ephesus sightseeing.

The Greeks borrowed

The Greeks borrowed, they did not imitate. Alone as yet, they had thrown off the tyranny of custom, of caste, of kingcraft, and of priestcraft. They only had moulded the ponderous column and the uncouth colossus of the East into the graceful shaft and the lifelike figure of the gods. They only had dared to think freely, to ask themselves what or whence was this earth, to meet the problems of abstract thought, to probe the foundations of right and wrong. Lastly, they alone had conceived the idea of a people not the servants of one man or of a class, not chained down in a rigid order of submission, but the free and equal citizens of a republic; for on them first had dawned the idea of a civilised community in which men should be not masters and slaves, but brothers.

On poured the myriads of Asia, creating a famine as they marched, drying up the streams, and covering the seas with their ships. Who does not know the tale of that immortal effort ? — how the Athenians armed old and young, burned their city, and went on board their ships — how for three days Leonidas and his three hundred held the pass against the Asian host, and lay down, each warrior at his post, calmly smiling in death — how the Greek ships lay in ambush in their islands, for the mighty fleet of Persia — how the unwieldy mass was broken and pierced by its dauntless enemy — how, all day, the battle raged beneath the eyes of the great king himself, and, at its close, the seas were heaving with the wrecks of the shattered host. Of all* the battles in history, this one of Salamis was the most precious to the human race. No other tale of war can surpass it. For in that war the heroism, the genius, the marvellous audacity shown by these pigmy fleets and armies of a small, weak race, withstood and crushed the entire power of Asia, and preserved from extinction the life and intellect of future ages.

[banskotravel]

Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean

And who were they who seemed thus doomed? Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean there dwelt the scattered race whom we call Greeks, who had gradually worked out a form of life totally differing from the old, who had wonderfully expanded the old arts of life and modes of thought. With them the destinies of the world then rested for all its future progress. With them all was life, change, and activity. Broken into sections by infinite bays, mountains, and rivers, scattered over a long line of coasts and islands, the Greek race, with natures as varied as their own beautiful land, as restless as their own seas, had never been moulded into one great solid empire, and early threw off the weight of a ruling caste of priests. No theocracy or religious system of society ever could establish itself amidst a race so full of life and motion, exposed to influences from without, divided within.

They had borrowed the arts of life from the great Eastern peoples, and, in borrowing, had wonderfully improved them. The alphabet, shipbuilding, commerce, they had from the Phoenicians; architecture, sculpture, painting, from the Assyrian or Lydian empires. Geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, they had borrowed from the Egyptians. The various fabrics, arts, and appliances of the East came to them in profusion across the seas. Their earliest lawgivers, rulers, and philosophers had all travelled through the great Asian kingdom, and came back to their small country with a new sense of all the institutions and ideas of civilised life ephesus sightseeing.

The Greeks borrowed

The Greeks borrowed, they did not imitate. Alone as yet, they had thrown off the tyranny of custom, of caste, of kingcraft, and of priestcraft. They only had moulded the ponderous column and the uncouth colossus of the East into the graceful shaft and the lifelike figure of the gods. They only had dared to think freely, to ask themselves what or whence was this earth, to meet the problems of abstract thought, to probe the foundations of right and wrong. Lastly, they alone had conceived the idea of a people not the servants of one man or of a class, not chained down in a rigid order of submission, but the free and equal citizens of a republic; for on them first had dawned the idea of a civilised community in which men should be not masters and slaves, but brothers.

On poured the myriads of Asia, creating a famine as they marched, drying up the streams, and covering the seas with their ships. Who does not know the tale of that immortal effort ? — how the Athenians armed old and young, burned their city, and went on board their ships — how for three days Leonidas and his three hundred held the pass against the Asian host, and lay down, each warrior at his post, calmly smiling in death — how the Greek ships lay in ambush in their islands, for the mighty fleet of Persia — how the unwieldy mass was broken and pierced by its dauntless enemy — how, all day, the battle raged beneath the eyes of the great king himself, and, at its close, the seas were heaving with the wrecks of the shattered host. Of all* the battles in history, this one of Salamis was the most precious to the human race. No other tale of war can surpass it. For in that war the heroism, the genius, the marvellous audacity shown by these pigmy fleets and armies of a small, weak race, withstood and crushed the entire power of Asia, and preserved from extinction the life and intellect of future ages.

[travelagentr]

Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean

And who were they who seemed thus doomed? Along the promontories and islands of the eastern Mediterranean there dwelt the scattered race whom we call Greeks, who had gradually worked out a form of life totally differing from the old, who had wonderfully expanded the old arts of life and modes of thought. With them the destinies of the world then rested for all its future progress. With them all was life, change, and activity. Broken into sections by infinite bays, mountains, and rivers, scattered over a long line of coasts and islands, the Greek race, with natures as varied as their own beautiful land, as restless as their own seas, had never been moulded into one great solid empire, and early threw off the weight of a ruling caste of priests. No theocracy or religious system of society ever could establish itself amidst a race so full of life and motion, exposed to influences from without, divided within.

They had borrowed the arts of life from the great Eastern peoples, and, in borrowing, had wonderfully improved them. The alphabet, shipbuilding, commerce, they had from the Phoenicians; architecture, sculpture, painting, from the Assyrian or Lydian empires. Geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, they had borrowed from the Egyptians. The various fabrics, arts, and appliances of the East came to them in profusion across the seas. Their earliest lawgivers, rulers, and philosophers had all travelled through the great Asian kingdom, and came back to their small country with a new sense of all the institutions and ideas of civilised life ephesus sightseeing.

The Greeks borrowed

The Greeks borrowed, they did not imitate. Alone as yet, they had thrown off the tyranny of custom, of caste, of kingcraft, and of priestcraft. They only had moulded the ponderous column and the uncouth colossus of the East into the graceful shaft and the lifelike figure of the gods. They only had dared to think freely, to ask themselves what or whence was this earth, to meet the problems of abstract thought, to probe the foundations of right and wrong. Lastly, they alone had conceived the idea of a people not the servants of one man or of a class, not chained down in a rigid order of submission, but the free and equal citizens of a republic; for on them first had dawned the idea of a civilised community in which men should be not masters and slaves, but brothers.

On poured the myriads of Asia, creating a famine as they marched, drying up the streams, and covering the seas with their ships. Who does not know the tale of that immortal effort ? — how the Athenians armed old and young, burned their city, and went on board their ships — how for three days Leonidas and his three hundred held the pass against the Asian host, and lay down, each warrior at his post, calmly smiling in death — how the Greek ships lay in ambush in their islands, for the mighty fleet of Persia — how the unwieldy mass was broken and pierced by its dauntless enemy — how, all day, the battle raged beneath the eyes of the great king himself, and, at its close, the seas were heaving with the wrecks of the shattered host. Of all* the battles in history, this one of Salamis was the most precious to the human race. No other tale of war can surpass it. For in that war the heroism, the genius, the marvellous audacity shown by these pigmy fleets and armies of a small, weak race, withstood and crushed the entire power of Asia, and preserved from extinction the life and intellect of future ages.